Oliver got in the car while his two 8 year old sons stepped in the backseat. Today was the day he'd have to send them away for their violent behavior at an early age. He wouldn't see the boys for a number of years, until they had learned to control themselves. That really would take years.
"but we don't want to go, pops!" Allen argued.
"it's because you don't want us, eh?" Max said, sounding hurt.
Oliver slammed the breaks and undid his belt so he could turn around and face his boys properly.
"don't you dare say that ever again!" he snapped with tears in his eyes. "I've told you so many times not to fight or cuss in public, but now it's too late!" Oliver sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. "if there was anything I could do to keep you with me I would, but I simply can't! So I want you boys to stop crying, be strong, and behave so we can be together again soon," Oliver finished his rant and seated himself in the driver's seat again.
The two 8 year olds looked at each other as the vehicle came into motion once again.
Neither of them really understood what would happen to them from now on, but the one thing they knew was that their father wouldn't be around for a long time, and that prospect was not very pleasant for any young child to receive.
Neither of them knew how long it would take and assuming the worst they expected not to see him again, which almost felt like a death-sentence. Maybe even worse than death, since he was driving them away voluntarily.
The two stepped out of the car and Oliver followed suit, shutting and locking the door. The boys stared up at the brown, brick, prison like, building before them. They let their eyes wander over the windows which were mostly broken and had iron bars before them. They couldn't see anyone else through the windows, and for a place that should be filled with children and teens, and the greatest troublemakers of the state at that, it was eerily quiet.
A few nurses with cheerful, yet creepy, smiles walked out of the front door in perfectly white dresses and stopped before the little boys.
"don't worry, dearest," a blond nurse said.
"we'll be taking good care of you," the brunette continued.
"just behave like good little boys and you'll be home before you know it," the blonde finished.
The lines seemed practiced and the smiles were clearly rehearsed. The boys looked at each other and took a few steps back to hide behind their father.
"No FRUKing way!" Max yelled.
"pops, those bitches are creepy, let's just go home and I promise not to hit anyone with my bat in public!" Allen pleaded. The nurses faces twisted into looks of utter disgust and they stood up straight.
"I'm sorry, boys, but we discussed this. You have to stay here until they say you're alright," Oliver said, ruffling up his sons' hair for the last time.
He turned around and got in the driver's seat. The boys tried to scramble into the back of the car, but the nurses soon grabbed them. As Oliver drove away he looked into the rear-view mirror to see one of the nurses bleeding on the ground while Max had sunk his teeth into the other and two bulky male nurses came to restrain them.
"that's right, those are my boys!" Oliver whispered to himself as tears rolled down his face.
Oliver drove for thirty minutes, with his face soaked in tears, until he decided the his vision was too hazed by tears for him to drive.
He got out of the car and grabbed his knife. He contemplated on taking his poison with him too, but he wasn't looking for an easy kill. He was looking for a way to blow off steam.
He dragged himself on, the pink in his eyes swirling madly, making his eyes seem aglow.
Once his eyes caught a man getting out of his car and walking up to a house he knew he had spotted his target.
The man opened the door and was greeted by a lively woman who seemed in her early thirties. She hugged him and let him in, throwing the door shut behind you. Oliver quickly stuck his foot in the between the door and slammed it wide open.
The woman screamed, and the man stepped forward to get the pink haired psycho out of his house, but Oliver had surrendered to his insane murderous haze, his instincts, and the man didn't have a chance.
In one swift motion he stabbed the man in his stomach, purposely avoiding his vital spots.
"ARGHH!" The man doubled over and slowly began to gurgle up blood. Oliver never once looked down at the man that was now coughing blood on his shoes, his stare was fixed straight forward and directed at the horrified woman who was screaming in utter shock.
He stepped forward, knowing the man would get up eventually once his adrenaline had begun to pump and h had enough... motivation...
Oliver tilted his head to the side, a cheshire-cat grin on his face, as he dragged his feet through the ever growing puddle of blood, splattering it all over the place. The woman ran up the stairs, but once she reached the top, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her back,for a mere second, making her stop dead in he tracks, she released a final whimper, shutting her eyes, before Oliver sliced clear through her spine.
After that Oliver's swift moves reverted back to sluggish as he dragged himself further into the house. He heard something shift in a room to his left and he pushed the door open. It creaked eerily as it revealed a boy's room that was littered with toy cars and action figures, much like his sons'.
Oliver walked into the room, crushing the plastic toys under his feet, enjoying the cracking sound they made as the plastic snapped and the occasional iron crunched. Bones sounded even more beautiful though.
"come out, come out, wherever you are," Oliver sing-sang sweetly. Then he caught sight of a small boy, shivering in his closet, which he'd opened just a crack to peak at the intruder. He had probably heard his parents scream and decided to hide.
"there you are, poppet!" Oliver exclaimed once he saw the boy. The little boy shut the door instantly upon realizing his parents' murderer had caught him cornered in his hiding spot.
"now now, there's no need to be afraid, I don't usually kill children anyway! If you promise to keep your little mouth shut I just might let you go! So what will it be?" Oliver offered, swaying a bit, and dripping blood all over the boy's toys.
"what is it now? Did your parents never tell you to answer when an adult asks you a question?" Oliver ranted, now resembling a drunk.
That's when the man he'd stabbed just moments ago raised an aluminum bat high above his head and let it rush down towards Oliver's strawberry-blonde head.
Oliver caught the bat with one hand, the cunning serial killer returning to him.
"ah ah ah, dear! Await your turn like a good lad!" Oliver threatened.
The man gave Oliver's warning no heed and yanked the bat from his grasp, raising it to beat Oliver once more.
"leave my family alone!" the man yelled.
"how I wish they had left my family alone," Oliver said dazedly, swaying easily to avoid the bat. "they took my boys away from me you know, you should feel sorry for me," Oliver said. "my youngest like to play this game too. Only when he tried to bash my head in he'd use a bat with nails in it, much more effective," Oliver said, catching the bat once again.
"you know something? Their mother was a native American who tried to sacrifice them as infants," Oliver wailed, still clutching the bat, not allowing the man to pull back this time.
The man gave up on the bat and rushed over to the closet in which his son was hiding.
"and now they've taken my pride and joy away from me! And expect me to say thank you!"Oliver screeched. The man dragged his son out of his closet and ran for the door.
"why should you have your wife and son while I'm by myself?" Oliver asked ominously, facing the man's back as he ran. He took his knife in between his fingertips and threw it straight in the boy's neck. The boy dropped to earth lifelessly, tripping his bleeding father as all vividness seeped from his eyes.
"YOU… YOU MONSTER!" the man cried, his body stained in the red from himself, the red from his wife, the red from his son. He sat there crying as Oliver walked around him and placed the knife against his throat, killing him in one quick slice.
He was about to head down the stairs when he heard something crying. A baby.
He walked slowly into the nursery opposite of its older brother's room.
There was a small, obviously female child laying in a crib there. It had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair and a white nightgown with a red ribbon over her cream white bloomers.
He picked the little thing up and cradled it in his arms, rocking it gently while singing a soft lullaby.
As the child calmed down, so did Oliver's bloodlust and Oliver left the nursery, the child seemed so blissfully ignorant to the fact she was held by a murderer. the murderer who had slaughtered her family.
Oliver walked down stairs, catching a bottle of whiskey from the corner of his eye, taking it as he went.
He dragged himself down the road, not knowing, nor caring where he was going. The child slept in his arms, the booze in his hand, the blood soaking into his clothes.
He still couldn't see, even as it started raining. He sat down under tree, as black crept on the edges of his blurred vision.
He held the child tightly for warmth he shut his eyes and drifted off. Murder was his drug, his booze, his love making, and afterwards he wanted to shut his eyes and sleep away his high.
~time skip~
" …. –nsieur? …ey monsieur! hey! monsieur! are you alive?!" someone called out to him.
He had an obvious French accent with a gruff voice, making it sound odd, close to laughable so.
Oliver opened his eyes to see a tall, blonde, Frenchman shaking him out of his after massacre nap.
"oh, yes?" Oliver mumbled. He opened his eyes and blinked away the sleep, regaining the usual bright and cheerful shine in his blue and pink eyes.
"were you going to finish that?" the other asked him, pointing at the half-full bottle of whiskey.
"good sir, I have two bottles left at home and drinking by myself would be no fun now would it?" Oliver said, remembering what had happened before he fell into his madness.
The Frenchman smirked.
"what about your daughter?"the Frenchman asked after that.
"I beg your pardon?" Oliver said, still in a laying down position under the tree he fell asleep under.
"the kid," the blonde said, pointing at the sleeping child in Oliver's arms.
Oliver looked at the child for a moment before he recalled what had happened completely and his startled face faded into a sweet caring smile.
"my little girl needs her sleep,"
Oliver put the little girl on Max's bed, making a note to himself to get the baby-things out of the attic in the morning. He'd never been able to throw those out, there were to many good memories attached to them.
He walked down the stairs and grabbed the opened bottle of whiskey and two cups, before walking into the living room, where his scruffy, new, homeless friend, who had introduced himself as Francois Bonnefoy, had turned on the news.
Oliver smiled at him and put the bottle down, pouring both of them a drink, and resisting the urge to comment when Francois grabbed the bottle instead of his cup.
Oliver turned his attention to the tv in an attempt to distract himself.
"three people have been found dead within their residence. All three were killed with the same knife, by being struck in a vital spot. At first it was assumed that this was the work of the serial killer who has come to be known as the cupcake killer, but after discovering none of the killer's signature cupcakes at the crime-scene and no poison being ingested by the victims it has been confirmed that this was the work of a copycat, attempting to frame the cupcake killer for his crimes. The victims' names were, (mom's name), (dad's name), and (brother's name) (last name). The youngest child of the couple, a 10 months old girl by the name of (full name) has gone missing-..." Oliver threw the remote at the screen that was showing family pictures and images of his new daughter's former home.
"A COPYCAT! IS THAT WHAT THEY'RE SAYING! CAN THEY HONESTLY NOT TAKE INTO CONSIDERATION THAT EVEN SERIAL KILLERS GET FRUSTRATED EVERY NOW AND THEN?! I WAS JUST GETTING RID OF SOME TENSION, I DID NOT WANT TO USE POISON THIS TIME!" Oliver yelled, having forgotten his guest in his sudden rage.
"you killed those people?" Francois asked.
Oliver froze for a moment, before whirling around to face his new friend with a matter-of-fact expression and his hands folded he spoke: "I am the cupcake killer, and I killed those people. I have two sons and both of them were taken to an institution today, so I had to blow of some steam... I needed something to get rid of my frustration so I didn't want to use poison, it'd make it to easy"
"oh," was Francois' only reply and he turned back to the tv.
"uhm... I have a feeling you've had enough," Oliver said, slowly reaching for the bottle of whiskey.
"I'm fine. I'm fine with you killing and believe me when I say I'll drink you under the table any day," Francois snapped, snatching the bottle away before Oliver could take it.
"if you say so," Oliver said. Sitting down next to Francois.
"so that's their kid?" he asked.
"yes," Oliver replied flatly.
"why? Did you want to be noble and save the poor little girl from a life without a family without hurting her? Or is this an attempt to save your own soul by letting her go and raising her?" Francois asked sarcastically.
"heck no... don't think I'm trying to do something noble, and my soul was rotten to the core from the very beginning." Oliver said, staring at the tv screen, but his smile was missing and he wasn't focusing on what was going on on the screen either. He was just spacing out and it was somewhat... frightening.
His face was cold and motionless. Frozen with a bitter expression and his icy blue eyes were swirling with hot pink.
Francois swallowed dryly, as cold sweat began to form on his brow. Would he be the next victim? Should he have been afraid? If so he surely was now.
"then why?" Francois asked him, reaching for the knife he kept hidden in his back-pocket in case.
"because...-" Oliver started, his signature insane smile spreading across his face, somehow signaling Francois he was safe, even if that smile meant certain death for others.
"I'm a psychopath! Psychopaths simply get bored, especially without my boys to distract me! It just happened to be her luck that I found her while I was frustrated like that, I normally would have let her go!" Oliver exclaimed loudly, getting out his knife and swaying about wantonly, the alcohol taking effect.
"well if that's the case, how about we pass the time together?" Francois asked, standing up and showing one of his rare smiles, showing off the knife in his hand, somehow looking charming.
"sounds delightful, love!" Oliver cheered maniacally, putting his knife to his lips that were still curved in a perfectly broken smile.
"don't mind if I do then," Francois promised him.
in the next chapter reader-chan goes to school for the first time, her brothers come home, and she goes killing with her new daddies!
if you're wondering why I sent Max and Allen away, it's because:
1 to give Oliver a reason to kill her family (or... well... you get it)
2 I wanted a WTF meeting between the teen Max and Allen and their little sister with her being able to talk and everything, while Oliver has always raised her as his own.